Wen Zhi looked at Meng Fan with a series of expressions, ranging from frowning to being visibly upset, all rich and colorful.
She silently took the bread that was on the table and brought it to Meng Fan's mouth, whispering, "Why don't you eat something to fill your stomach, and then I'll help you think it through."
"I have no appetite, I can't eat," Meng Fan turned her head away, resisting the food brought to her lips.
Wen Zhi coaxed her, "It's bread."
Meng Fan couldn't help but laugh, "I know it's bread."
Wen Zhi added, "It's tasty, very filling."
Meng Fan was amused by Wen Zhi's earnestness in coaxing her.
She had no choice but to take the bread, which was twice the size of her face, bite into the edge, and said, "It's been a long time since I had such authentic bread."
"Right?"
Seeing Meng Fan finally eating, Wen Zhi felt much more at ease.
From the bread, Meng Fan only ate a quarter before feeling nauseous and stopped eating.
